


Lashing Out

by AmberBrown



Series: Reading between the Lines [17]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recovery, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:06:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25647040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberBrown/pseuds/AmberBrown
Summary: Porthos has not recovered from his encounter with a sexual predator as well as he thought.
Relationships: Aramis/Porthos
Series: Reading between the Lines [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542634
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Lashing Out

**Author's Note:**

> This follows on from the last story 'Coercion'.

Porthos enjoyed sex he enjoyed all manner of sexual things. He liked to deal with his partners' needs in many ways. He had never had a time - as an adult - where he had felt intimidated by another man during a sexual encounter. 

But he did not want to be where he was at that moment. He knew he had no choice. He had to go through with it. Had to do what the man wanted. His life and that of the man he loved were in danger. 

Giroux, a man who was shorter and slighter than him, was straddling him, leaning over him, kissing him. Porthos was not kissing back.

Giroux was touching him, sliding his fingers along his cock. Porthos hated himself for reacting to the touch. The humiliation that his own body was contributing to was all-consuming. He looked away from the man that was sneering at him. Giroux trailed his other hand across his chest. He traced his finger over a scar from a wound that Aramis had sewn up a few months before. Aramis often touched him there, even laying lines of kisses over the scar. Porthos liked that. He did not like Giroux touching him there. He did not like Giroux touching him anywhere. 

Porthos could feel his breathing getting faster. He was panicking. He did not panic. He was a soldier. A Musketeer. And yet, this smaller framed, sexual predator, was keeping him captive with nothing more than the threat that he would turn them in. 

Porthos had to fight back, regardless of the consequences. 

MMMM

Athos woke with a start before screwing his eyes shut as a particularly petulant ray of sunlight blinded him. He turned his head and blearily looked around. He noted the bottles on his side table. One was on its side in danger of rolling off. He reached up a fumbling hand and stood the bottle up. The previous night was one of those nights he had needed to drink to excess. When he returned from his two days away, Athos had been pleased to reunite with Porthos and Aramis. They had visited a tavern together, but Porthos had been oddly quiet. Aramis tried to compensate for his friend, but Athos knew something had happened. He did not ask, it was not his place, as long as it did not affect their work, he saw no reason to know. 

He swung his legs off the bed and untangled the blanket from himself. He tried to remember what had woken him so suddenly. 

A shout and a thump of something falling. 

The shout had been Porthos. Athos knew his friends were still in their room. It was early, the long days meaning the sun was up hours before most people were venturing out of their homes. 

Athos wandered out into the sitting room and looked at the closed door to his friend's bedroom. The shout from Porthos bothered him. Particularly with the accompanying sound of something falling. He stepped up to the door and listened. It felt as though he was intruding on his friend's privacy to be standing where he was. 

A distressed moan had Athos deciding he had to intrude further. He pushed the door open a little and peered in. 

Porthos was lying on the bed, his arms held above him in a defensive position. What Porthos was defending himself against was impossible to tell. The rucked-up blankets were in a tangle around him. It was clear his friend had not slept well. Porthos was not awake. His disturbing dream was still affecting him. He was breathing fast and pushing at some unseen foe.

‘I won’t do any more…’ mumbled Porthos. ‘I don’t want to…’

Athos pushed the door open a little further. He looked for Aramis who he was sure was with Porthos the previous night. When he spotted his friend, he rushed forward. He had no choice but to intervene. 

Aramis was lying on the floor on the other side of the two pushed together beds. He was lying in a crumpled heap, quite still. Athos’ mind raced through the possible reasons for Aramis’ current position. He concluded that Porthos’ animated dream had led him to strike out at anything that appeared to be an enemy. Had Aramis tried to wake his friend and been pushed off the bed? Had he merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time?

The narrow space between the bed and wall forced Athos to step over the tangled limbs of his friend. Aramis was naked meaning Athos could see every mark he had acquired on his short trip to the floor. Nasty grazes on his shoulder and the top of his arm made Athos think Aramis was pushed from the bed when he was still asleep. The small space he had landed in meant he would have knocked into the wall on the way down. A cut to his forehead and accompanying bruise accounted for Aramis’ continued stillness. Athos reached out and felt Aramis’ neck. The pulse was strong and steady.

He turned his attention to Porthos, who was still mumbling about not wanting to do something. Athos disliked the tone Porthos had. He appeared almost cowed, which was most unlike the imposing Musketeer.

After circling the bed, Athos shook Porthos’ shoulder. He was careful to keep out of the way of any unconscious retaliation from his friend. Athos had to be quite forceful to rouse Porthos who sat up, flailing around. Athos grabbed Porthos and held him until he looked at him with confusion.

‘You were dreaming. I do not think it was pleasant,’ said Athos when Porthos finally focused on him.

Porthos glanced around as Athos released him. He made an effort to slow his breathing down.

‘Where…’

Athos raised an eyebrow and nodded towards the other side of the bed where Aramis was lying on the floor. 

‘He’s alive,’ said Athos, ‘help me get him back on the bed.’

Porthos seemed confused as he moved to help Athos. 

‘You must have pushed him off the bed. You were quite active. Whatever was happening in your dream, you were acting it out.’

Porthos helped Athos to straighten their friend up and lift him onto the bed. After covering him with a blanket Porthos moved away to pull on some clothes. 

‘He appears to have hit… everything,’ remarked Athos. ‘There is a nasty cut to his head and some deep grazes and splinters on his shoulder.

Athos glanced at the bed frame, noting the rough edge to the wood and the few specks of blood. 

‘I will get what we need to clean him up. Porthos, are you alright?’

His friend did not reply. He had closed his eyes and was pinching the top of his nose.

‘I’ll be fine,’ he said.

‘What was the dream about?’ asked Athos.

Porthos looked away.

‘You do not have to tell me,’ concluded Athos, knowing that some things from their past were best left there. 

When Porthos did not respond, Athos left him and went to collect a bowl of water and Aramis’ medical bag. He returned to the bedroom. Porthos was checking Aramis more thoroughly for injuries. 

‘I think it’s just his head and bruises. There’s some splinters in his shoulder we should get out.’

Athos nodded and set the bowl of water on the small table by Aramis’ side of the bed. Porthos manipulated the unconscious man so that they could tend to his injuries. 

‘We… no, I, didn’t want to tell you,’ said Porthos.

Athos looked up from easing one of the splinters from under Aramis’ skin. He did not respond, hoping that Porthos would continue.

‘When you were away with the King, I was propositioned by a man I’d slept with a few months ago - before Aramis.’

Athos nodded his understanding. 

‘I told the man I wasn’t interested. I had to be quite firm with him…’

Porthos trailed off, he looked ashamed. Athos did not like to see his friend upset.

‘I wasn’t firm enough. He was determined. He found out where we live, and that I’m with Aramis. He found a couple of the cadets and bought them drinks to get them to talk.’

‘Some of the cadets are naive,’ remarked Athos. ‘They are easily bought.’

Porthos dampened a cloth and started to wash the graze on Aramis’ shoulder. Athos turned his attention to the cut on his friend's head. 

As Porthos worked, he continued his halting, stilted, recount of what had happened. Athos listened without interrupting. He did not push his friend to recount exactly what had happened between him and Giroux. He could guess that Porthos hated every second of his time with the conniving man. 

‘Why not talk to the Captain? I know he would have helped you to come up with something other than going through with it. If I had been here, I would have helped.’

Porthos sighed, ‘Aramis suggested that as well. But… I didn’t want you to know… I was… embarrassed.’

Porthos looked away. Athos rested his hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed. 

‘Where is Giroux now?’ asked Athos.

Porthos looked at him, ‘he’s dead.’

Athos stopped his ministrations on his unconscious friend. He looked at Porthos for several seconds.

‘Did you kill him? What if you were seen? At the hotel?’

Porthos smiled, a small smile, but a genuine one. He glanced down at Aramis with a look of fondness in his eyes. Athos tried not to react. 

‘Aramis killed him?’

The chuckle from Porthos was not what Athos had been expecting.

‘I jumped to that very same conclusion and was soundly put in my place for it,’ he said. ‘No, Aramis did not kill him. He followed Giroux to the dock the morning after. He spoke to the captain of the vessel he boarded. Apparently, I was not the only man who had been… used by Giroux.’

Porthos finished cleaning the cuts and grazes to Aramis’ shoulder before continuing.

‘The captain had been paid well to ensure Giroux did not get to his destination.’

Athos was not sure how to react.

‘It was a shock to us as well,’ said Porthos. 

‘Well, I am pleased it is dealt with,’ said Athos after a few seconds. ‘Although you do not appear to have dealt with it.’

Porthos had calmed down considerably. He looked at Aramis who was not showing any signs of waking. 

‘The dream was very vivid,’ he said. ‘Giroux was… forcing me. I fought against him in the dream and I must have lashed out unwittingly.’

‘Of course, it was unwitting, Porthos. You would not deliberately hurt Aramis.’

The reassurance did not seem to placate Porthos whose expression had taken on a melancholy look.

‘What if he doesn’t wake up?’

‘He will. His pulse is strong. It is a nasty knock. We will have to keep an eye on him for a while.’

Athos was reminded of the head injury Aramis had received at Savoy and the consequent issues it caused. Porthos appeared to be thinking the same.

‘What if he starts to get those absences again? What if he does something that we can’t deal with this time?’

Athos was inspecting the cut to his friend’s head, ‘this is going to need a couple of stitches,’ he said. ‘We will have to wait and see. Porthos, there is nothing we can do until he wakes up.' 

‘It’ll be my fault.’

Athos sighed and turned away to ready a needle and thread.

‘It will not be your fault Porthos because you did not choose to have a dream about being abused.’

‘But you said it yourself I’ve not faced it. I’m being like him. I’m trying to hide it, and now this has happened.’

‘Then when he wakes up, talk to him. He will listen, you know he will. That will be your penance.’

Porthos looked at Aramis for a few seconds before nodding. 

‘Hold him still whilst I put these in. You know what he’s like for wanting stitches to be neat.’

Athos waited for Porthos to do as he was told. The slightly worked up man was still preoccupied with what he had done. Athos found it difficult to offer comfort. He had become so distant to people that it seemed at odds to who he was. Aramis was the one who was tactile with them. Even when Athos did not want the contact, his friend would sling an arm across his shoulder and grin. Aramis was the one that Porthos needed at that moment. The very man that Porthos was fretting about was the man who would be able to help him. Athos leaned forward and placed the two stitches to keep the wound to Aramis’ forehead shut. As he cut off the second one, he was not surprised to find Porthos ready with a bandage. After dealing with the injuries, they both sat back. 

‘What if the Captain takes his commission?’

Treville had considered relieving Aramis of his commission after Savoy. He had not told Aramis, but he had known it was a possibility. They had rallied around and kept a close eye on him. Athos could understand Porthos’ fears and hoped they were unfounded.

‘We just have to wait and see,’ reiterated Athos. 

A slight movement from Aramis had them both focused on the man lying between them. Aramis opened his eyes, blinking a few times. He stared at the ceiling for several seconds. An expression of pain and confusion spread across his face. His eyes were focused, but the discomfort was obvious.

‘Stay still,’ urged Porthos.

He moved forward to put himself in Aramis’ vision, a hand laying on the injured man’s chest to restrain him. When Aramis tried to reach a hand up to his face, Porthos grabbed it and kept hold of it. 

‘What happened?’ Aramis asked.

Porthos tried to answer but could not make a sentence. Athos realised he would have to answer for his friend, despite it being under awkward conditions. 

‘Aramis,’ he said, ‘Porthos told me about the assault on him a few days ago.’

Aramis looked at Athos but did not say anything. He furrowed his brows in confusion.

‘Porthos had a vivid dream about it and lashed out. He pushed you off the bed. You landed awkwardly and have a few cuts and grazes. We have dealt with them, but you are not going to be fit for several hours at least. You should try to rest.’

Aramis looked back at Porthos. Athos could see that he was squeezing his friend’s hand.

‘Are you alright?’ asked Aramis. 

Porthos smiled, ‘you clearly are if you are more worried about me than yourself. I’ll be fine. I think I tried to forget what had happened when I shouldn’t have done.’

‘Perhaps I should leave you alone?’ suggested Athos rising from the bed.

‘Thank you,’ said Porthos. 

Aramis managed a pained smile as well. 

Athos quietly left the room, pulling the door closed. With Aramis conscious and Porthos willing to talk, he knew he was no longer needed.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
